


lightbulb in a dark room

by liadan14



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy has sensitive nipples, Frottage, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, That's it, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liadan14/pseuds/liadan14
Summary: The thing Steve hates most about Billy Hargrove is that he’s apparently totally incapable of buttoning up his shirts.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 11
Kudos: 202





	lightbulb in a dark room

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: technically this is underage given that both characters are in high school.

The thing Steve hates most about Billy Hargrove is that he’s apparently totally incapable of buttoning up his shirts. It’s such a dick move. Even granted that he’s way too fucking built to be a fucking highschooler, and Steve totally subscribes to the concept of flaunting it if you’ve got it, it’s just such a dick thing to do. And Steve spends half an hour on his hair every morning, he would know.

Billy fucking always plays skins, too, makes Steve play shirts because he’s the only one who can hold a candle to Billy and they need to split up to make the teams even sort of evenly matched.

A whole day around Billy makes Steve annoyed as all get-out. It’s like he’s constantly shoving in Steve’s face how hot he is, how much more popular, how much better, and it niggles under Steve’s skin like mosquito bite. He’s trying so damn hard to be better than this shit, now. It’s just hard, watching Tommy H. snivel around at Billy’s ankles like he’s some sort of golden god.

When Billy snaps his towel at Steve’s ass in the locker room, with no one else around and as if there’s no weird history of them beating the shit out of each other, Steve snaps.

“What the fuck, man?” He snarls. “What’s your problem.”

“I don’t have a problem,” Billy drawls. “Loosen up, princess.”

“Loosen up,” Steve repeats incredulously. “Loosen up?” 

He rounds in on Billy before he knows it, walking them back towards the wall of the locker room, grimy and off-white. 

“Why are you always fucking on my case?” He grinds out.

“Easy,” Billy says, almost nervous now he’s been called out. “I’m just messing with you.”

“Yeah, well, fucking stop it,” Steve snarls. His hand hits the wall to the side of Billy’s head, and he realizes he’s got Billy pressed up tight against the wall, leaned up a lot closer to Billy than he’d ever been intending. 

He draws in a deep breath, trying to let it go, let Billy go.

Their chests brush together.

A noise slides out of Billy’s mouth, slight and plaintive.

Steve freezes.

For a long, shocked moment, their eyes meet, Billy’s blue, blue eyes hazy and terrified.

Steve can’t write a five-paragraph essay for shit, but he does get math, and he can solve for x. The itch under his skin, the irritation at Billy’s every taunt - it clicks into place seamlessly as flirting, as unacknowledged desire, as frustration that he couldn’t just cut through all the bullshit and take what Billy was putting on offer all the time with his taunts and his attention and his golden skin always on display.

He reaches up and thumbs across Billy’s nipple.

Billy whimpers.

“You like that?” Steve whispers, hushed against Billy’s skin.

Billy nods.

“That why you can’t close your fucking shirt? Too sensitive?” He doesn’t really need an answer, running his thumb over the soft nub of Billy’s nipple over and over again.

Billy shudders against him until, with a groan, he spins them around, presses Steve up against the wall, hitches Steve’s legs apart until he can press in close and get them lined up where they’re hot and throbbing in their gym shorts.

“Fuck, Harrington, tell me this is okay,” he grits out.

Steve kisses him.

Billy only breaks away when Steve gets his hands back on Billy’s chest, takes a nipple between thumb and forefinger and pulls, gently. Billy makes a noise into Steve’s mouth that Steve would really love to hear all of, loud. He pulls back to gasp in air.

“Fuck, keep doing that,” Billy gasps, and scrabbles with their shorts until his warm, rough hand is wrapped around Steve’s dick, his own bumping up against it.

Steve’s eyes slide shut on instinct when Billy starts jerking him off, rough and kind of harsh and something no girl would ever have done to him. He plucks at Billy’s nipple again.

Billy’s dick jerks, hard, against Steve’s.

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” Steve says, mouth running on instinct. Nancy used to always complain about that, how he couldn’t shut the fuck up when it was good. Billy doesn’t seem to mind, crowding impossibly closer to run his mouth up and down Steve’s throat, jerking him hotter and wetter as precome slicks down Steve’s dick.

Steve comes like that, dripping thick globs of it over the top of Billy’s fist as he jerks his hips up into it, driven over the edge by the way Billy keens at every bit of new stimulation to his chest.

Billy’s fist slows on his cock as he comes down, and Steve summons up the last of his concentration to rub quick little circles around both Billy’s nipples.

Billy’s eyes go wide and shocked, hips juddering towards Steve. He moans out a broken-sounding noise and comes, hot and wet, dripping down onto Steve’s gym shorts.

Steve didn’t even have to touch his dick.

“Jesus,” Billy mutters, forehead thunking into the side of Steve’s head.

Steve leans into him and starts to laugh.


End file.
